“All right, then,” I say carefully. “Bring him his phone, and I’ll talk to him later.” If Hyde has really broken into Jek’s house or something equally criminal, his cover story won’t hold up long.
“You do that,” Hyde replies coolly before stepping over to where Jek’s bike is leaning against the garage—it’s one of Jek’s little idiosyncrasies, that he prefers biking to driving. I guess Hyde must share it, because he mounts Jek’s bike and heads off toward the main road without another word.
Again, I’m weirded out that this stranger is so confidently helping himself to Jek’s possessions, but I have to admit that Jek’s pretty casual about his stuff, and generally shrugs it off when someone “borrows” his bike without telling him. Last year his stepdad made a point of getting him a seriously heavy-duty lock on a bright green chain so he’d stop using his missing bike as an excuse for coming home late, but Jek can’t be bothered to use it, so it just hangs uselessly off the frame. Still, it’s a bit weird that the bike’s here, if Jek’s not. The whole situation feels suspicious—maybe it’s nothing, but I don’t feel right just walking away.
I may not be able to contact Jek and ask him about Hyde, but I’m not completely powerless. I head up the hill, around to the pillared and porticoed front of the house and knock on the main door. Some little blond kid opens it after a minute. Jek’s new stepbrothers all have names that begin with C, but I can’t keep them straight. Conner, Cameron, Caden, Carter, Caleb? I have no idea.
“Hi,” I say. “Is Jek around?”
The kid shrugs. “Try his apartment.”
“I did. I was just wondering if he was in the main house.” Jek still joins the rest of the family for dinner some nights, if his mom is cooking, though she clearly isn’t right now—the house smells of cheap jarred tomato sauce, which means the au pair is making dinner. She cooks mostly pasta and grilled cheese and chicken fingers, since that’s all the Barrows will eat, anyway. Back when it was just Jek and Puloma, their house was always filled with the smells of spices Puloma’s parents sent her from the Indian markets where they live in New Jersey. London doesn’t have any Indian restaurants, let alone an international grocery, so I learned to associate those smells with Jek’s house.
“What about Puloma?” I try. “Is she around?”
“Yeah,” the kid says laconically before wandering off toward a room where I can hear his brothers are playing video games. I show myself in and walk around a bit, looking for Puloma. I’ve only been in the main part of the house a couple of times, but I know the layout well enough from others in the neighborhood.
Though Puloma and Jek have been living here for over a year, I can hardly tell that either of them are part of this household. Photos of Tom’s boys line the walls, and the rest has the blandly tasteful mark of a professional decorator: leather couches in neutral colors, faux-rustic coffee tables and way too many decorative throw pillows. Puloma clearly hasn’t added much, and the walls still have blank spots where Tom’s ex-wife reclaimed personal items.
Moving through the living room to a corridor along the back of the house, I find Jek’s mom hunched over a laptop in a room that must be her study. The door is ajar, and for a moment I just stand there, taking in the familiar smell of Puloma’s incense. The decor in this room feels different, like this is Puloma’s space. The furniture is plainer and more grown-up than back at the old house, but it’s accented by vividly colored textiles, shiny tin figurines and an intricately carved marble elephant that I remember playing with as a little girl.
I knock gently and clear my throat.
“Puloma?”
She startles a bit, then turns around.
“Lulu!”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t be silly. Come in. I haven’t seen you in ages. Will you have some tea with me?” Perched on an end table is an elegant brass tea set with a slender spout and jeweled cups, but Puloma ignores this in favor of an electric teakettle and a pair of chunky mugs shoved behind the papers on her desk. She flicks the kettle on and gestures me toward a comfy-looking couch under the window.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“Please. I needed a break anyway, and I never get to see you these days.” I enter and take a seat as she pours the tea. “I guess that’s the downside of giving Jayesh his own door,” she says, handing me one of the mugs. “You always go straight there.”
It’s true that since they moved, I’ve spent more time dealing directly with Jek, and have hardly spoken to Puloma at all. It didn’t occur to me that she might miss seeing me.
“Actually,” I admit, “I came here looking for Jek. Have you seen him?”
Puloma frowns. “Not since last night,” she says. “He must have gone out after school. Is he ignoring his phone again? I hate that.”
“No, I...I don’t know. Just...there’s this guy. I just saw him come out of Jek’s apartment. Is it... I mean, should he be in there when Jek isn’t?”
“Oh,” says Puloma. “That must be Hyde. You don’t know him?”
I hesitate. “Not really,” I say. “I just met him outside.”
“Jayesh told me they were working on a project together. Some experiment that needs to be checked at particular intervals. He gave Hyde a spare key to look in on it when he’s not around.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed that I was so suspicious. Although based on what Maia said, I’m obviously not the only one he’s rubbed the wrong way. “What do you think of him?” I ask, trying to sound conversational.
Puloma shrugs. “I haven’t met him, really—I just saw him leaving one day while I was unloading groceries. I suppose I could have insisted on an introduction, but I don’t like to hassle Jayesh. Honestly, I’m just happy he has a black friend now—I know he’s always felt so isolated in this town.”
I blink at Puloma in confusion. “You think Hyde is black?”
She puts down her tea and gives a nervous laugh. “Isn’t he? I only saw him for a minute, but I thought he looked...” She trails off awkwardly. “Actually, could you tell me a bit about him? Or maybe whatever they’re working on in there? I know it’s not right to pry, but Jayesh’s life is a mystery to me these days.” She gives me a wry smile.
Puloma and Jek have always seemed to me more like partners in crime than mother and child. For bedtime stories, she used to read to him from biochemistry journals, and while other kids messed around with store-bought chemistry sets, Puloma snuck home the real thing from work. They did experiments together as he got older, and she even named him as a coauthor on two of her papers. She’s always encouraged Jek’s scientific curiosity, even when it led in directions other parents might have disapproved of, so he’s never had much reason to hide things from her.
But then, a lot has changed since Tom entered the picture.
“Um,” I say at last. “I don’t think I know much more than you do.”
Puloma laughs gently. “No, of course. I’m sorry, Lulu—I didn’t mean to make you a spy for me. I trust Jayesh to make good choices, and tell me anything I need to know.”
Puloma clearly thinks I’m being evasive to protect Jek, but I wish that was the case. I’m flattered that she thinks I’m privy to